heroicdeeds

[heroicdeeds]

Interactions Bruce has had with an 8 year old Dick Grayson based on things I’ve said to my cat

***

Bruce, watching Dick scurry by with a guilty look on his face: Hey Dickie, what have you got there?

Dick, who has just shoved his hands in his pockets: Nothing

Bruce: show me your hands

Dick, who very clearly has something wiggling in his pockets but now has his hands shoved up in Bruce’s face: nothing! See?

Bruce: what’s in your pockets?

Bruce, now chasing Dick: WHAT IS IN YOUR POCKETS

Bruce, who just saw a lizard head poke out of Dick’s left pocket: DICK COME BACK HERE AND GIVE ME THE LIZARDS

***

Bruce, sleeping peacefully:

Dick, who is awake at the crack of dawn, now crawling over Bruce’s chest: BRUCE!

Bruce, who has just had the wind knocked out of him and now has all of Dick’s weight on his chest with one of Dick’s hands pressed to his windpipe: stop

Dick: BRUUUUCE!

Bruce: ITS NOT BREAKFAST TIME YET GO BACK TO BED

Dick, now hitting Bruce’s face: BRUUUUUUUCE!

Bruce, now wrapping his arms around Dick and rolling over so he’s smothered under the pillows: shhhhh bedtime

Dick, who’s voice is now very muffled under the comforter with his face smooshed in Bruce’s chest: bruuuuce

Bruce, moving one hand to the back of Dick’s head: ssshhh I can’t hear you until my alarm goes off

Dick, pathetically: bruce

Bruce, huffing and puffing and kicking the blankets off as he carries Dick out of bed: ugh FUCK fine I’m up IM UP we’ll go have a snack

Dick, looking quite pleased with himself: :)

***

Bruce, walking up behind where Dick is staring at something on the floor: whatcha looking at

Dick: bug

Bruce: oh, what’s it doing?

Dick: bug stuff

Bruce: oh, okay. Cool.

Dick, laying on his stomach and kicking his feet in the air:

Bruce: don’t eat it

Bruce, now sitting on the other side of the room, trying to actually get some work done: I mean it, Dick

Dick, still kicking his feet:

Bruce: don’t eat the bug Dick.

Bruce: make good choices

Dick, who is now poking at the bug, still kicking his feet:

Dick, who is now scampering out of the room:

Bruce, chasing after him: DICK

Bruce: SPIT IT OUT, DICK!

Bruce: THIS IS NOT A GOOD CHOICE, DICK

Bruce, who has now caught Dick around the middle: SPIT IT OUT

Dick, who is no longer having ANY fun, but spits it out into Bruce’s hand: :p

Bruce, who’s gagging at the wet bug in his palm: that was not a good choice, Dick. That was very very gross. Very yucky.

Dick, now scampering away into another room to probably do more stupid shit: :)

***

Bruce, walking by where Dick is sprawled out on a couch, sleeping in the most uncomfortable looking position: aww

Bruce: an angel

Dick, cracking one eye open: I’ll bite you if you move me

Bruce, still smiling: a sweet little baby

[heroicdeeds]

heya the link expired could I maybe get a new one?

[heroicdeeds]

I really like the whole “other members of the Batfam can mimic the Robin, report! to a degree where they actually respond as if it’s Batman,” but I raise you:

What if other Gothamites learned to do the same thing?

The first time it happens, Jim is panicking. He’s got an injured bird on his hands and no idea where Batman is. The kid isn’t responding no matter who asks questions, and suddenly the GCPD is treated to Commissioner Gordon doing a scarily good Batman impression, to the point Robin immediately responds

Word doesn’t necessarily get out right away. It happened in the precinct building, so the only witnesses were cops. But the rumors start in bars with drunk men telling anecdotes, with officers coming home with stories, and it spreads from there.

Eventually, people know that if you channel Batman and go “Robin, report!” the bird will go from gasping desperately in pain to a robotic list of injuries. EMTs learn to do this as part of their training. The Bats don’t go to hospitals, but they will let someone do emergency first aid on them.

Interestingly, it doesn’t just work on Robin. Gotham knows, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks, that their little birds grow up to become other Bats. It’s why their rivalry with Blüdhaven over Nightwing is so vicious. That’s their little bird the city is claiming. Blüdhaven did not raise him, Gotham did.

Of course, not all of the Bats were Robin. Signal flipped someone off for trying the trick, and Black Bat pulled out a sharpie and drew a sad face on a civilian’s hand when they were trying to see how injured she was after falling several stories due to a snapped grapple line. So, the trick isn’t universal.

The most surprising one was when someone found Red Hood, half-buried in rubble with a slash across his neck, and barked out the order in a panic and he immediately complied.

It wasn’t Batman who told the city he was their dead little bird. It was the panic of a passerby just trying to do the right thing.

After all, Gotham may not acknowledge it, but all of them love their birds. They are protectors, and not just from the rogues. They help with the murders, yes, but they also do small stuff. Stop muggings. Talk people down. Slip résumés into the right hands, guide people to the right clinics.

And just how the Bats protect and help the people of Gotham, Her citizens help and protect them.

[heroicdeeds]

“Oh my god.” Steph says, and Cass doesn’t need to look to feel the distress radiating from her.

She’s said Oh my god three times now. It’s the only thing she’s said since she jumped off her bike, each time more choked and horrified. Cass wants to look at her, wants to hold her and comfort her, but there is a man on the ground dying and she can’t look away.

She doesn’t understand it. She can’t. They were chasing a truck full of guns that Two Face’s men were smuggling through Gotham, an ordinary bust. Then two men climbed on the roof of the truck and began shooting. Not unusual either. Cass wasn’t even worried about Steph getting hit, both Batgirls well used to ducking and weaving from choppy, poorly aimed gunfire at this point.

And then. The older man, big and muscled. He grabbed the lankier gunman and threw him right off the van. Right onto the road in front of them.

Cass saw it coming. The second he grabbed his fellow gunman she could see what his arm was going to do, and she braked with her typical borderline inhuman reaction speed. But Steph…

Cass yelled out to stop, of course she did. But Steph was only human. The second the smaller henchman was thrown she swerved and pressed the brakes, but it was too late. The taller man’s throw had been deliberate, much better aimed than any of his shots tonight. His colleague hit the front of Steph’s bike with a sickening crunch, and Cass remembers the sound just like she remembers her own scream of horror.

Now here they are. On the side of the road, with a man two minutes away from dying.

Cass doesn’t have great first aid knowledge, a few lessons and her own unique body reading abilities are what she’s working with. Steph has experience, has training. Cass watched as she moved around the man, turning him on his side, analysing his injuries.

She’s known the truth the whole time. But she waited and let Steph work anyway, hoping for a miracle. 

Steph isn’t working anymore. She’s just staring at the man, side by side with Cass.

One minute.

That’s how long he has to live. They’ve called for help, called for anything that could save him. Oracle’s voice had been heavy, even through the vocal modulator, when she said that there was no one free to get there in time. 

Cass finally wrenches her eyes away from the dying man. Steph is watching him, trembling with tears in her eyes. There is a look of terror behind the tears. A fear Cass is intimately familiar with, one she never wanted any of her loved ones to feel.

In fifty seconds Stephanie Brown will understand the feeling Cassandra Cain-Wayne did at eight years old: Watching a man dying and understanding despite all arguments and logic people present, that it was your fault.

This is not something Cass would wish on her worst enemy. It is most definitely not something she wishes for the girl she loves to experience. They’re alike in many ways, but their differences are just as precious to Cass as their similarities. No human should have to go through this.  

Steph doesn’t know she only has forty five seconds left. She’s a better healer, but Cass will always be able to understand the body in ways no one but Shiva can.

She tried calling for her biological mother. No answer. Cass can’t say she’s surprised, she’s already deep in debt with that particular relationship. All out of favours.

Thirty seconds.

The man is dying. All Cass wants is to save him. She wants to stop time, to take him away until people with healing hands can work magic or science to keep him breathing. But Oracle said that no help is coming, and if there’s one person she trusts to have exhausted all options it’s Barbara. There is nothing Cass can do to save him. All her body reading can give her is the knowledge of when the light is likely to leave his eyes.

Stephanie is crying now. Shaking and crying and keening, a horrible grief filled noise. It breaks through Cass’s shock and denial, filling her with a deep sadness. Not grief. Not yet. There’s still twenty seconds before she has to give in and start grieving. Nineteen seconds for a miracle to occur.

Stephanie will be haunted by this for the rest of her life. Cass knows that she herself is not normal about death, that her reaction to any and all death is “extreme” even among most vigilantes, but she knows for sure that this isn’t something Steph can walk away from the same as she was, even if it’s not quite as life shattering as Cass’s first kill. It’s close enough to wreck her, close enough to fill her with guilt and horror and disgust. At herself, at the man who threw his colleague, at the world and at humanity. All those negative emotions that Cass spent years carrying with her even as she ran millions of miles around the world, Steph will experience them in ten seconds. It’s a jail sentence with no defined end time, just you and your mind and the moment the light leaves his eyes replaying constantly over and over.

Eight seconds. Steph looks like she’s about to throw up. Cass can see it settling in, the weight of it all. Six seconds until she’s doomed, and there’s no miracle in sight.

Five seconds. Four.

Steph still doesn’t know. There’s still a sliver of hope in her eyes, praying for the impossible.

Three. Two.

They’re out of time. This man is dead and Steph will forever be a killer and all Cass has done is watch. Useless and motionless.

One.

Cass reaches forward and snaps the man’s neck.

Stephanie screams. Cass doesn’t flinch. She looks down at the man, memorising his face, the horror and fear and grief on it. He knew his time was up, and yet he still hadn’t been ready. Cass stole that one extra second from him, and she will punish herself for the rest of her life and carry his face in her mind just like she carries all her kills, right back to Faizul in the office. She is cursed, damned. Evil trying and failing to be good, to be human. Some nights it’s a success when she can blend in.

Tonight she can’t. It’s not a success, but it’s something else as well as a failure. A thing Cass has no word for. No name.

“What did you do?” Steph gasps out.

The fear has turned to shock and horror. Good.

“I killed him.” Cass replies, voice steady as she gently reaches over and closes the man’s eyes.

“Cass.” Steph says her name slowly, like she doesn’t trust that the woman in front of her is her best friend. It stings, but Cass knows it’s better than the alternative. “Cass, why did you do that?”

“Because I’m a killer.” Cass meets her eyes head on, no tears or shaking pupils. “And you’re not.”

She sees Steph’s face morph as it clicks, shock to relief, back to horror then to anger and then sadness. But not the expression Cass fears most. Steph will never wear that expression as long as Cass is alive and able to do something about it.

“You know it doesn’t work like that.” Steph says, far more gently than Cass deserves. “That scumbag killed him the second he threw him off the truck. I killed him by not braking fast enough. You snapping his neck doesn’t change any of that.”

“He could have lived.” It’s an easy lie to say, because even though there was only one second left Cass still believes it’s true. “He could have lived despite what the man did and what- What happened with the bike. But I killed him. Me. Not you.”

Steph doesn’t believe her. Cass can see it in her shoulders, in the curve of her mouth. But there’s also hesitation in the way her brow wrinkles, confusion in her clenched fists. She doesn’t know he only had one second left. She understands what Cass has done but she doesn’t know for certain just how close Cass left it. Probably can guess it was the last second, but Cass will never confirm that. She can’t. As long as that second exists, there was still a chance. Still hope the man could have been saved. Still a beat where something could have happened to change his fate and Stephanie’s.

Cass interfered. She moved and now the man is dead. She is a killer and Stephanie is not. It’s as simple as that. It’s as complicated as that.

The death will still haunt Steph, Cass has no doubt about it. There is guilt rushing back in with every moment that passes, Steph’s spine curving as they sit in silence at the side of the road. Steph knows Cass, knows she wouldn’t have done it if she believed there was even the most narrow chance of a miracle occurring.

Cass is a creature made of guilt. It stole her soul when she was a little girl, hollowed her out deeper than the hunger as she ran. But she is more than that now. She has love. The guilt has not lessened, not really. But it’s changed its form, a different shape in her body. There’s room for coexistence now.

She loves Stephanie. She will not let Stephanie feel that hollowing guilt. She cannot save or fix everything, and she can’t accept that but she can handle the harsh reality slightly better nowadays. Less like a tsunami crashing over her body and more like a pit in her stomach that will never truly fade away.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Stephanie is angry now. Cass expected that.

“It’s done.” Cass replies. There’s nothing else to say.

“Why?” Stephanie spits, because of course she does. “What gives you the right?”

Cass could walk away. Maybe she should. She definitely would have when she was younger. When she wasn’t as comfortable with this. Love and bonds and relationships outside of utter devotion to a parent. She’s older now. Can speak clearly and use more words than she ever would have dreamed of, back in the day.

But she still prefers to keep it short and simple. People talk too much. A few words are normally all that’s needed to say everything.

“Because I love you.” She answers.

Stephanie’s glare doesn’t diminish. If anything it gets stronger. Cass meets her gaze with a calm stare, utterly unrepentant.

“Fuck you.” Stephanie whispers.

Cass deserves that. Deserves worse, deserves cruelty Steph will never give her. She stands up and holds out a hand. There are sirens getting closer. They can’t be here when the police arrive. Oracle will already be planning how to spin this, coming up with media headlines that will make Cass sick to even look at.

“Let’s go home.”

Steph is still furious. Furious and heartbroken and sick with the same nausea Cass feels so deeply in her bones. There is no forgiveness to be found there, not for herself and not for Cass. But there is the beginning of an understanding, the reality that life didn’t end for both of them when this man died, even if part of Cass wishes hers had. They have to keep moving on, have to react to everything and feel everything and learn to live with every terrible emotion this night created. 

She takes Cass’s hand, and together they begin the long walk towards the sunrise.

[heroicdeeds]

Another commission from @nezumichan16 !! This time with Bruce and Jason. The only reason Jay is even tolerating this is because his fever's got him delirious lol

If you want to commission me, you can check on my prices here and/or dm me if you have any questions!!

[heroicdeeds]

DC x DP

The Justice League summons the ghost king.

Unfortunately, the safest way JLD can find requires a host body to contain the being.

Obviously Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash are out - who knows what this being would do with a super-powered body. They have no idea how Captain Marvel or Green Lantern type magic would interact with the summoning, so not them either. They need Constantine and Zatanna to perform the ritual.

Basically it's down to the bats.

Batman tries to volunteer - better him than one of his kids if anything were to go wrong.

That gets vetoed. As do a lot of his offspring. The safest options (ie the least contaminated by magic, lazarus water, time shenanigans, and everything else) are Red Robin, Spoiler, and Nightwing.

Nightwing pulls rank.

After a lot of arguing, everyone at least agrees to tolerate the arrangement.

Nightwing removes every possible weapon from himself, allows himself to be tied to a chair in the middle of a summoning circle, and waits for JL Dark to complete the ritual.

It's not long before he feels a surge of cold burning through him.

He expected to be unconscious while the Ghost King took over. That's what Zatanna said had been reported the last time this ritual was performed many years ago.

They had all expected a lot of things.

Pariah Dark was supposed to be terrifying to behold - a massive, cruel, FURIOUS dictator who turned to violence at the smallest sleight.

This was... definitely not that.

Dick was present. He had no control over his body, but he could see and hear in an almost dream-like state. Foggy and indistinct, maybe a little warped, but definitely present.

He felt his heart rate and breathing pick up in panic even though he felt mostly calm (or at least no more anxious than he had been, waiting for an angry deity to possess his body and all). It was a strange sensation.

He felt the vibrations of his own voice as it left his throat, high and confused.

"Wha... Where..." It asked, warbling and afraid.

He felt his eyes blink and his limbs struggle against the bindings.

His head tilted down without his say so, and he looked at his own body as if through rippling water, warped lenses.

"I'm not..." His voice came out, still confused. Still afraid.

"Your Majesty?" Zatanna asked from beyond the limits of the circle.

His head whipped up, and he felt his neck click at the abrupt motion.

His breathing picked up again. Dick felt the ghost (pun not intended) of anxiety, like it was leaking from the other consciousness inhabiting his body.

"We mean you no harm. Our associate has agreed to lend you his body for the duration of this meeting." She continued.

Dick felt the king's anxiety again, stronger this time. Other emotions too, guilt, sorrow, anger, and a strange sort of pressing-tugging sensation.

Suddenly, Dick was back in control. He could still feel the king's consciousness, stronger now than before, but he could also move and speak freely.

"What just happened?" He mumbled, speaking to the ghost, not the audience of heroes.

"Nightwing?" Someone called from outside the circle, but he ignored them for the moment, feeling instead the consciousness inhabiting his body push back fear, guilt, and apology.

"Yeah, it's me. He's still in here, though." Dick frowned, trying to figure out how to interact with the being.

He heard a voice in the back of his mind. It sounded like him. It sounded different. It was younger than him. It was small and afraid. It was neutral and quiet and him. But it wasn't. It was speaking. It was silent. It was emotions and thoughts and nothing.

"Oooookay, this is really weird. I think we're communicating. I don't know how to talk back, but if he's in the same situation I was a minute ago he should be able to hear us just fine. Is that right?" Nightwing tried.

The 'voice' (he figured he'd call it a voice for now. He wasn't sure what else he could call it) responded in the affirmative. Like a hand outstretched, flipping up and down in a 'kinda' type of gesture. Like a nod and a hesitant smile. The feeling of victory by default.

Dick beamed.

"Okay yeah he can hear us." He announced for the benefit of their audience. "Why didn't you stay where you could speak? Wouldn't that have been easier?" He looked at his own chest, as if he could somehow find a way to see the presence inside of him.

Disgust. Guilt. Fear. An unexpected step at the bottom of a staircase. Falling off a pier into tempestuous water. A stranger pinning your hands above your head.

"Oh." Dick breathed. "Thank you, but I can handle it."

Guilt. Guilt. GUILT.

"Okay. It's alright. You can speak through me or we can manage like this." He soothed.

"Nightwing, report." Batman demanded.

"Uhh, right. I think he's trying to be courteous? To me, I mean. From what I can gather, he doesn't want to possess me or take over. He seems pretty repulsed by the idea, to be honest. I think he can see and hear and generally experience everything I'm experiencing, he's just more passenger than driver? I can feel him, and he's communicating, he just can't speak through me without taking my autonomy again, and he really doesn't want to do that." Dick explained, looking at the various states of thinly-veiled bewilderment across the faces of the heroes.

"Ask him if he's Pariah Dark, High King of the Infinite Realms, Ancient of Rage and Destructio-" Constantine begins, before Dick cuts him off

"I just said he can hear everything we're saying. Ask him yourself."

Constantine huffs. "You heard me, mate. Are you him?"

Denial. Contemplation. A battle. Single combat. A crown made of black thorns and green flames. A throne too big for he who sits in it. Victory. Desperation. Insufficiency. A question.

"I think..." Dick starts, trying to understand. "I think he's the King... but he's not Pariah Dark."

Agreement. Apology. Questioning.

"He wants to know if we're looking for Pariah Dark, or if we're looking for the High King of the Infinite Realms." He glances between Zatanna and Constantine, uncertain of the answer himself.

Constantine pales.

"Whatever is inside you defeated the ancient of Rage and Destruction in single combat, Nightwing. It's a powerful motherfucker, and a total unknown." He warns cautiously.

"Get him out of there, now. Send it back." Batman demands.

TERROR. Pleading. Unbearable suffering. Shiny metal dripping with green blood. The end of love. Unfathomable loss. Death without release. Unending torment. Begging.

"NO!" The voice tears its way out of Nightwing without his consent.

Cowering. Apology. Apology. Guilt. Apology.

Dick clears his throat. "I don't think he wants to leave."

"All the more reason to send it back." Batman growls.

"Don't." Dick protests. "I know it's a risk, and there's a chance it's manipulating me. But, something doesn't feel right about all of this."

"Ghosts are well known for their skills regarding manipulation, mind control, and emotion tampering." Zatanna cautions.

"According to those dehumanising rags maybe," Constantine scoffs.

"Every source we have-"

"Two sources, Love. Both of which have a bit of a vested interest, wouldn't you say?"

Fear. FEAR. Frustration. Heartbreak. An unheard voice in a crowded room. A layperson lecturing an expert. Mockery. A spectacle of suffering. Lies. Hurt. Fear.

"He agrees with Constantine." Dick pipes in.

Exasperation. Reluctance.

"I don't think he's too happy about it." He laughs.

"Of course he agrees with Constantine, he's giving him what he wants." Red Robin huffs.

"He's afraid." Dick's voice cuts through the argument and the heroes turn to look at him. "I don't know exactly what's happening, but he's terrified of being sent back."

Zatanna sighs. "Let's do what we came to do, and then maybe we'll talk about letting him out."

(Something goes wrong and Dick and Danny end up stuck like this for a while.

Dick moves back into Wayne Manor while they try to figure out how to remove Danny from Dick's body without hurting either of them.

Everybody starts referring to Phantom as Dick's little passenger.

Eventually they repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts and find out all of the trauma Danny's been through via talking and dream/memory bleeding between him and Dick.

When Danny does finally manage to tumble out of Dick he is promptly adopted into the Batfam (what did anyone expect, he's a traumatised young teenager with black hair and blue eyes and barely any sense of self preservation).

In the meantime, however, Dick is happily going about his daily life with his little passenger, and Danny is still very traumatised but he's also contentedly curled up in Dick's chest, thrumming with happiness whenever Dick takes care of him.

Once or twice when Dick gets into Big Danger while vigilante-ing, Phantom forcibly takes over Dick's body to save him, using his ghost powers to fight the bad guy and escape the scenario. He cries afterwards because even though he needed to save Dick's life, he knows how terrifying and violating it feels to have someone else controlling your body (thanks Circus Gothica) and never wants to put anyone else through that.)

[heroicdeeds]

Me, feverish: I just think we should all be more open to the idea that nature is an entity and we should talk to trees more and hear what the wind is guiding us to do

My mom: …. How about….no

[heroicdeeds]

I think that sometimes Dick Grayson forgets that he is a large grown man and not a petite little boy.

Because most of the adult figures in his life, can still, and will, pick him up/catch him. (looking at Bruce and Clark)

So I just really want a comic bit where Dick tries to fit in a space that, yeah, tiny little boy robin could, but Dick now, cannot, and then just, sad puppies there for like five minutes.

because he is in fact, not a petite little boy.

[heroicdeeds]

Dick is a type of person who gets very (even more than usual) dramatic when he falls sick. His attention span reduces to zero, he is in the middle of writing his will, and he is constantly over-bored, bothering everyone with random calls or by spawning behind their backs out of nowhere.

(It doesn't help that Bruce is paranoid, and every time his kids get sick, he is like in full-time helicopter mom mode as if they are actually about to die in a second, but that's beside the point.)

When Tim gets sick, it is a catastrophe. He is so stubborn about everything that he ignores half of the house. He doesn't even tell others he is sick until he coughs out his lungs or something, and when they finally realize it, he is battling for the right to get everyone off him, because, hey. Nothing happened. He is fine.

If Damian gets sick... It is the cutest thing ever. He becomes so clingy. He comes to put his head on someone's lap or curls on their chests. He huffs a lot too, and mutters something, but he loves to sleep and be hugged, when he is sick, and that's the most charming shit ever.

When Jason gets sick?

Everyone expects him to be the most troublesome person in the world. Because, well, it is Jason. He kicks everyone away, when he is poisoned, he rarely asks to patch him up, unless things go to rough, and he can be flippant as hell when he feels too vulnerable.

But then, Jason actually gets sick, and everyone is an awe, because he is so quiet? His voice becomes smaller, he does whatever Alfred asks him to do, he takes all medicine without throwing a tantrum or asking to sweeten it with something else. He accepts anything, really.

Because when he was a child, long before Bruce found him, he had no place or time to be sick. His mother needed him. He needed to take care of things, he heeded to continue acting like he was fine, like he didn't need help or medicine — he walked around with a fever, and spend restless nights coughing out his lungs.

But then Bruce came. And he was finally allowed to rest. Explained that he needs to be taken care of, and someone in this manor, always will do that for him.

So, when Jason stumbles in the Batcave in the random night, sniffling and trying to suppress cough, Bruce is not surprised in the slightest. If anything, he welcomes him as fast as he can, before Jason can overthink what he did (out of pure instincts, really) and leave again.

Jason came, because Bruce taught him that.

As simple as that.

[heroicdeeds]

fuck, man

love and grief anon here again, and i'm branching off of your last point of the JLA meeting Jason and being like "???? this is not what Batman said you were like" and it got me thinking about how much bruce's grief WARPED Jason's memory.

Like he knows that he's a cautionary tale, 'reckless, violent, angry, A Good Soldier.'

But thinking about older Jason wondering if anyone in the batfam remembers what his laugh sounded like, or how good he was at school, or how much he loved theatre and music or how he took his tea, and realizing that those parts of him didn't survive Bruce's grief and the character assassination of a kind too kind for his own good child who just wanted someone to love him enough to believe in him or trust him.

And older Jason revealing his identity to the JL and Diana and Clark just fighting the anger at Bruce keeping him from them and wanting to embrace Jason and never letting him go and then think about their interactions with Red Hood till then, and maybe Diana goes "ofc it was you. No one else quite had your flair for the theatrical. I missed you"

And Jason just sobs because someone remembers HIM. Who he was, and what he was like. And maybe for the first time in a long time he feels like a person, not like a corpse standing in the shadow of the memory of boy who didn't really exist.

And maybe the other Bats look on as Jason cries and mutters "thankyouthankyouthankyou" on repeat and have no idea what to think, and they're all slightly perturbed and awkward but they hear Jason's voice again.

"Aunty Di" and he's looking up pleadingly, and maybe kind of scared, beacuse the love he's experienced from Bruce not his father has been conditional on adherrence to his rules.

But Diana is a Warrior, and she understands so she just wipes his tears and says "Dear boy, to have endured so much and still be so kind. You've been so strong, and I'm sorry that you had to, but I'm glad you are alive and well."

Ksksoiwjwjso just Jason hearing that he's loved for who he IS currently, not just who or what he used to be, and all of that mounting grief of the family that wants the phantom of the boy they made him out to be in their minds, refusing to acknowledge the heartbroken, desperate boy that's right in front of them, who keeps getting hurt but keeps going back, and him finally letting go of it, only for them to finally understand, just a bit too late

the most insufferable person (me) just felt on her knees in a public place after reading this, btw.

something-something about Jason keeping strong after everything that happened to him, only ever offering snark when he is hurt, and then crumbling in the instant Diana takes his face in her hands, and smiles at him, saying — after everything, it is still you. it all that takes him to just let go all pain he cradled to his chest.

i feel like Diana really would see all the path Jason went through and be understanding. maybe even a little surprised because in her home, people like Jason are treated like heroes and legends, their return home is a celebration, so how come this boy came back to have no one wanting him back, to be so cruelly misunderstood?

and imagine Jason finally letting all of that go after being acknowledged and understood. just starting a new. people catch him here and there with Diana afterwards, too, discussing his journey, chatting about books, swords. imagine Bruce hearing a familiar laughter in the halls of the Watchtower, feeling haunted by the ghost of the boy he lost again. except, when he opens the door, he realises that it is Jason tagging along with Diana. his son, who is alive, had been for a while. he just never realised how similar he is to the boy he mourned.

[heroicdeeds]

Bruce definitely knows his way around make up. It's almost a requirement since he needs to cover up any bruises he receives as Batman and it's also incredibly versatile for cover identities. And of course he has to teach his kids these skills too.

Dick was soo happy learning about make up from Bruce. He remembers the clowns in the circus applying big swatches of white on his face before drawing all kinds of colors on after and then he'll go around telling jokes and juggling.

He also remembers the performer make up his mom and dad would put on before the show and asks Bruce if he could put it on him too. It's very bittersweet but Dick manages to not cry, less he ruins Bruce's hard work and his family's iconic red, green, and yellow swirls.

Jason is more apprehensive about make up. He's seen the way his mom used to try covering up her unhealthy complexion before giving up. He also thinks of the make up the street workers use, all those colors and glitter used to lure men in like angler fish.

But Bruce and Dick make it fun, spending an afternoon putting on ridiculous bright lipstick and laughing at crooked eyeliners. In the end Jason decides to stick to mainly covering up bruises but he can now appreciate the effort put into it.

Tim's make up lesson start as less fun and more educational. Bruce teaching him how to color correct and apply just enough to cover up anything suspicious. Then Tim points out the big box of make up and Bruce teaches him to change his appearance with just some highlighter, contour and foundation.

Bruce is convinced that the lesson is enough until he finds Tim hunched over the make up box at four am preparing for some undercover mission for Young Justice. So he take Tim and helps him completely transform, including a wig and colored contacts. Tim first tries to convince himself that the joy of getting to completely change appearance at will just comes from the baffled faces of his teammates, but in the end he admits that it's genuinely fun.

When he tries teaching Steph she tells him that she already knows how to do that. Normal make up bc she's a teenage girl who isn't afraid of expressing herself and covering bruises through hiding Spoiler from her mom. Of course Dick and Tim hear her and egg decide the only way to settle the better make up artist is through a contest. The three categories are no make up looks, better application (sharper eyeliner, cleaner lipstick etc.) and recognizable make up look.

In the end Steph has to admit defeat and let Bruce teach her, but not without demanding he buy her make up from the same high end brands he gets his from.

Damien is surprisingly open to learning the art of make up. He sees it as another skill for his disguises and brags about his already proficient skill in it. But when Bruce offers him to teach him 'normal' make up he hesitates. Still, a little teasing from Tim is all it takes for him to agree to it.

So while Bruce explains all the different products Damien notices the little bottle of khol in the box. When asked Bruce explains that it is indeed the same brand Talia uses and he teaches Damien how to use it.

Teaching Cass make up is as unconventional as everything else the girl does. She's seemingly uninterested in blush and concealer but still listens to the explanation. It's only when Bruce sees her try to draw a flower on her face with black eyeliner he stops and gives her free reign of all the colorful eyeliners, eye shadows, blushes and lipsticks he has.

He mostly let her experiment outside of showing her proper placement and application and even lets her put whatever Cassandra fancies on his face.

With Duke is a learning experiment for both but Bruce is nothing less than prepared. Still it's quite different from the others, since they start the first half hour just deciding which foundation color matches Duke the best.

Bruce is first impressed by Dukes flawless skill, until he realizes it's too perfect and get the teen to admit to using his powers of light to auto correct everything. He also convinces Bruce to do some Batwing and Black Lightning inspired make up on him.

All the kids wonder separately and as a collective where Bruce had learned his make up skills. They all have different theories and conspiracies but none of them ask Bruce. It's not that pressing and imagining increasingly situations of how Bruce would acquire the skill is too funny to end it with the reality.

But if they ever were to ask, Bruce would gladly tell the how Alfred once cleared up an afternoon for the two pf them when Bruce was still little and taught him how to hide his bruises he got from fighting school bullies.

That lesson quickly derailing like all the ones that Bruce held for his kids, even putting on make up on Alfred like they did with him. After all, Alfred was an actor for quite some time and he'd allow himself to be the subject of some theatrical and absurd make up if it meant to see his little boy smile again.

[heroicdeeds]

Bane holding Dick dressed as Batman: I promise I will break your back as well

Bane attempts to snap dicks spine

Dick: *bends*

Bane: *straightens Dick back and tries to snap dicks spine over his knee*

Dick ‘I wanted to be a contortionist in the circus’ Grayson: bends to accommodate shape of knee

Bane: wut

Dick: … I’m Batman?

Bane: …

Dick: idk man it seemed appropriate for the moment

Bane:….

[heroicdeeds]

Whenever Jason’s feeling down, he shows up at Roy’s place unannounced. The latter takes one look at him, and doesn’t ask. He just tosses him a beer, turns on the TV, or pulls him into whatever he’s working on. Within minutes, Jason feels lighter. Roy has that effect on him.

But one night, it’s Roy who calls. Jason is half-asleep until he hears Roy’s voice. It's too quiet. Too... weird.

“Jay, I… I don’t feel so good.”

It’s not an injury. Jason can hear it in the weight of his words. The way they sound so hollow scares the shit out of him.

The drive is a blur. He barely remembers pulling up before he’s unlocking the door with the key Roy gave him months ago. Inside, he's on the floor, his arms wrapped around himself, staring blankly ahead.

Jason sits next to him to better search his face for anything that says this isn’t as bad as it looks. His hair’s a mess, and when Roy lifts his gaze, Jason sees the emptiness. Not pain, not exhaustion. Just… nothing.

It terrifies him.

His hand finds Roy’s wrist, hesitant at first. When Roy doesn’t pull away, Jason grips tighter. He moves closer, pressing their sides together. No reaction. Jason swallows hard, then does something he never does; he tucks his forehead against Roy’s shoulder.

Still nothing.

So he pushes further, pressing in, nuzzling against Roy’s neck without thinking. His breath is warm against his skin. If words won’t fix this, maybe this will. Maybe if he holds on tight enough, Roy won’t slip away.

Roy exhales, and Jason finally feels him lean in.

“I got you,” Jason murmurs. He tightens his hold. “I got you, okay ?"

Roy nods.

[heroicdeeds]

Jason and Bruce mini comic

-

If you couldn’t tell, I’m not used to drawing Bruce. Anyway, winter break is almost up, hopefully I can still post💔🥲

[heroicdeeds]

Anyone knows the song Silver Spoon by Erin LeCount? I've been listening to it for a while cuz ✨️angst✨️ and I've been wondering which member of the batfamily would suit the song best. Yknow, like those edits about two characters being a part of different worlds and upbringings.

Anyone who comes across this I'd love to read about your idea of who is best and why lol. Cuz I'm bored and intrigued.

[heroicdeeds]

POV Jason teaches Cass to read and often let's her sit with him and his little bat-book club [ members consisting of alfred, tim, himself and steph ]

i like jay and cass a lil too much if you can't tell :[

(jesus fuck i'm sorry for how late this response is, you've probably forgotten all about this XD. so many apologies)

😂😂 oh I can definitely tell. Same, tho. Same. they're just wonderful

Jason teaching Cass to read is something I have never considered but oMG is it ADORABLE. He would be so patient with her. He would go all in with it, buy books on how to teach it and make it all kinds of fun with interesting books and activities. Cass would worry at first that he thought she was a child, and that was the reason for all the color-coded notes and fun, happy books, but when she asks Tim, he just smiles and says, "You haven't noticed? That's just Jason."

he never once recommends her a book that might make her upset or remind her of her past, always sure of any potential triggers in it (though he was already doing that for the entire book club even before she joined) and he bakes treats for the book club.

[heroicdeeds]

people don't talk enough about how fucking funny it is that bruce can sub in his kids as batman when he's too busy. like can you imagine it from the league's perspective? imagine you have this really mysterious, geniusly scary guy that you know next to nothing about, never cracks a smile and yet always comes out on top, and one day he shows up to a league meeting and there's just something... off. about him.

you can't pin it down because he's literally acting exactly the same as usual and there's no reason to think there's anything wrong, but maybe he shifted in his seat one to many times, or he looked just a tad bit too bored during green lantern's case review, but something's just... odd. so you quietly ask superman after the meeting if anything's up with the bat bcs you know those two are closer and also clark can hear heartbeats so if something's wrong surely he'll pick it up? and without hesitation he leans over to you and mumbles 'yeah batman was busy, that's his 17 yr old son. he's a crime lord and kills people sometimes though so we're not allowed to let him into the weapons department.' and then walks away like it's normal.

like the whiplash the league must go through every time they realise that no, this is not their fearless dark and brooding leader, this is in fact one of his dipshit kids being forced to sub in bcs the real batman broke an ankle, is incredible.

wonder woman: so that's my proposed plan, what are your thoughts batman?

batman: hn. i think that- *voice raising two octaves* oh shit hold on my phones buzzing

the league:

batman, answering the phone and immediately dropping the Bat Posture™: what do you mean- aw come on little wing that's not fair! but- no, NO DON'T YOU DARE TELL ALFRED I'LL BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU- IM SORRY OK I'LL BUY YOU MORE- *catches sight of the league watching him, baffled* *stiffens* ok listen i promise to replace them but i gotta go, please show me mercy iloveyoubye *hangs up*

the league:

batman:

batman: *coughs awkwardly*

superman: *sighs*

batman, to superman: ...red hood found out i ate his chocolate pretzels-

superman, shaking his head: just... just stop.

the flash: so this isn't batman either, is it?

wonder woman: if this one's also a criminal im losing my mind.

superman, tiredly: no no, this one isn't a criminal. this one's actually a cop.

batman: *sinks down in his seat* b's gonna kill me

green lantern, mystified: where does he keep GETTING you all from!?

'batman' dick, who made a pact with jason to Always Fuck With Bruce Whenever The Opportunity Arises: batman is a whore.

they think they've finally sussed out all 2 of batman's kids and then one day during a meeting 'batman' ends up on a 30 minute rant about different hacking methods this tech villain could be using that results in him half way through a sentence breaking off to say '-oh uncle clark could you pass me that pen- thanks, anyway so-' and then five minutes after that when the league have all been exchanging incredulous looks he finally freezes and is like. SHIT.

wonder woman: you're different from the other two, aren't you?

batman: maybe i am maybe i'm not, you can't prove it.

wonder woman:

green lantern: so like, are you new or have you just managed to avoid sub duty up until now?

superman, coughing: actually, this is this ones ninth occasion of replacing batman. you've just never realised before.

the league:

batman: yeah actually the other two are kinda mad i lasted longer than them...

the flash: how the fuck does he keep getting kids with the exact same build as him!??!?

'batman' tim, spent 20 minutes padding the suit out so he would look the part, still mad that bruce keeps palming WE work off on him: oh he forces us to take steroids for it.

the league, concerned:

superman, pinching the bridge of his nose: now come on red robin-

batman, fully tearing up and looking distraught: PLEASE uncle clark, it HURTS, you can't keep COVERING FOR HIM!

superman, frantically to the league: this one lies.

bonus

the league, squinting at batman:

the league: ...

superman: *head in his hands, too disappointed to do anything*

the league: *silently exchanging looks, wondering if anybody's brave enough to say anything*

duke as batman, fully aware this is fucking stupid but jason and tim fell on the floor laughing when dick came up with the idea and frankly, he wanted to see if anybody would have to guts to call him out: so, are we all ready to start the meeting?